The Law of Attraction
by angel-with-a-scythe
Summary: AU. BruJay. Bruce begrudgingly agrees to step in as the physics teacher at a private school as a favor for Clark, where he begins to realize one particular student may have more to teach the teacher, than the teacher to the student. A fire ignites that hasn't been lit in a very long time, causing him to question his own morality and falter in his otherwise perfect control.
1. Chapter 1

"The Law of Attraction"

 **Title:** The Law of Attraction - Chapter 1  
 **Word Count:** 6k+  
 **Characters/Pairing:** Bruce/Jason, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Dick, Barry, Oliver, Diana, Lois, Clark, n' such  
 **Rating/Warnings:** M, Alternate Universe. Developing relationship. Sass. Manipulation. Mentions of abusive environments in later chapters. Will be very mature in later chapters. Not your average High School AU, I hope. Can't think of any triggers yet, but will be noted if they come up.  
 **Summary:** Bruce begrudgingly agrees to step in as the physics teacher at a private school as a favor for Clark, where he begins to realize one particular student may have more to teach the teacher, than the teacher to the student. A fire ignites that hasn't been lit in a very long time, causing him to question his own morality and falter in his otherwise perfect control.  
 **Notes:** Character ages meshed closer together for cohesive time lines(i.e. Dick and Jason are about the same age). I don't know a thing about physics. It has been a long time since I have written and I apologize ahead of time for being so rusty. I do not have an editor and I have limited time, but I've tried hard to make sure things are edited. I am human, however, so please forgive me if I have missed a few things.

* * *

Bruce couldn't remember the last time he had set foot in a school, but it was definitely as uncomfortable as he imagined it would be when he was first called about an open position. Of course, that was not to say that he had been looking for a job, not at all, but he somehow got roped into this situation anyways. Yep. Here he was in a high school, uncomfortably pretending to be interested in the newspaper in his lap while he waited for the principle. Sitting in a plush wing back chair, however expensive, was not doing anything to alleviate his annoyance at having to wait considering he was the one doing the favor.

The room around him was immaculate, as if someone had pulled the waiting room right out of a magazine. He had to admire its aesthetics, although he thought it was a bit intimidating to anyone who might be coming in... Perhaps that was the intention, for as he sat there stealing glances at his watch, he could hear muffled voices behind the principle's door. He recognized a voice, stern and with a definite undertone of struggle and strained patience, but it was cut off with a string of curses and a rising volume that made Bruce look up from his paper directly at the mahogany door. Beyond was a foreign land he wasn't sure he wanted to step into, and this was a shining example of why. The swearing continued, though lowered into a hush with a rummage and shuffle and suddenly the door was open and Bruce stood by reflex. The principle's face was wrinkled with hopelessness, looking at him apologetically as the student slung his backpack over one shoulder and flicked his hair out of his eyes with a toss of his head. As he watched the kid storm off, he wanted to sigh aloud but he kept his face neutral and turned to the older man.

"Clark."

"Bruce, yes, please come in. Sorry about that..."

"I'm sure you're used to that by now," he joked, picking up his briefcase.

"Yes, actually. At least once a week."

Wonderful. It was a big school, though, so he could imagine just as much. "Right. I forget how big this place has gotten since when you first started working here." It looked as if Clark wanted to say something to him but decided against it and closed the door behind them as Bruce settled in. The seat was still warm from the previous guest, which meant they were both here for a while before he'd even arrived on campus. Now that he thought of it, the hours were a bit odd... It was well after classes had ended, though he supposed there would be clubs and things after hours in private schools like these.

"Thank you for coming," Clark said, jarring him from his thoughts. "It really means a lot to me."

"I know." Clark gave him a weary look. "I owe you one... A big one... It's about time I repaid you anyways."

The dark haired man frowned, as if he was hoping his friend would do this willingly. He should have known better by now. He sighed and sat back in his chair across the desk, staring at Bruce as if he didn't really know what to say for moment.

"I know you're above teaching-"

"I never said that."

"...okay..."

Bruce was toying with him, he just couldn't help it. "When we heard that our physics professor broke his leg, I think I had a small panic attack," he said with a nervous laugh. "After all, how can someone find a capable teacher on such notice?" Clark sure had a way with going on and on, though he supposed that was the 'correct' social behavior to do in this kind of situation. He wasn't very good at sincere interactions since most of his were forced with businessmen and the like, but the few true friends he did have were well aware of his more withdrawn persona. "There is no one that could be better than you for this job."

He stared at Clark for a moment, letting himself relax a little into the chair, reminding himself that this was his friend, not someone he needed to watch his back with. "It's fine," he assured, giving him a half smile.

"The curriculum is already mapped out and I sent you an e-mail for the resources you may need to reference." Bruce opened his mouth to retort but Clark cut him off quickly. "Not everyone is as smart as you! So... it's just a reference to which parts you're teaching. It's all there, I promise. I made it as easy as I could for your transition."

Leave it to Clark.

They sat and chatted for a while before they both packed up and walked out together. The atmosphere had lightened substantially as Clark threw an arm around his shoulders and excitedly told him about the place they were going to eat. To better prepare Bruce, they had decided dinner was a nice time to go over staff, expectations, and other issues that Bruce would be unfamiliar with.

At the end of the day, his agitation with the situation had eased and he felt more in control of himself and the position he'd be assuming. However, he had a feeling that tomorrow would be the longest day of his life.

* * *

The next day came too quickly, and though Bruce had prepared as much as he could, he still didn't really know what to expect. Nevertheless, he walked confidently into the classroom and immediately surveyed the situation. Most kids were already there, it seemed, talking amongst themselves as they waited for the bell to ring. Conversation, however, died down considerably once he walked in and immediately went to work unloading his briefcase, grabbing some chalk-yes, Clark liked his traditional nuances, didn't he-and sweeping it across the dark green, scratchy board as he started to write. The powdery chalk created small tufts of dust that fell to the ground in wisps. He could feel the dryness of it as he breathed in through his nose, and the occasional squeak from the friction made him want to wince. He licked his lips, noting his throat was already becoming parched, and he was certain it was this board. _Note to self, start bringing chapstick... And make Clark install whiteboards._

The students started chattering again, and the rest of the kids trickled in as the bell finally rang. He'd gone over an outline of the curriculum in his head over and over, as if he could ever forget a detail in his life. If anything, he'd like much more to be able to blank things out than to remember everything so vividly. Even he still got nervous sometimes. Pulling a handkerchief from his breast pocket, he wiped white streaks onto the soft fabric, cleaning each finger individually as he turned. He had allowed a little extra time for the rest of the group to trickle in. He wanted to make sure they all got a nice, long lasting first impression. Dropping the handkerchief, Bruce slapped his hands together and brushed off the remaining dust, jolting the attention of the students to him.

He fixed the class with a hard stare until the chatter ceased and he gave just a hint of a smile, his eyes serious and intense going from one student's face to the next. Once he was satisfied, he spoke.

"Good morning. As the board reads, you may refer to me as 'Mr. Wayne' and I will be your physics professor indefinitely until your previous teacher can return to full duty with no restrictions. In this time, I will enforce classroom rules as I see fit with-"

The door squeaked open loudly and in walked another student, ten minutes late and incredibly too calm about it. His backpack was slung casually over one shoulder, clothes tousled and wrinkled in some spots, and his hair was a disheveled mess of black and...white? Yes, it was indeed a white stripe through his bangs. Bruce was _not_ amused. The kid hardly even acknowledged him, walking straight to his spot in the back corner by the window and plopping down without so much as an apology or explanation. He suddenly realized that this was the boy from Clark's office...

"...This brings us to rule number one. Do _not_ be late to my class. I am not here for you to waste my time, and you _will_ be given detention if you are not here by the ring of the bell. No exceptions." There were a few groans and huffs as students shifted in their seats uncomfortably. "You will sign in every morning on a sheet of paper that I will hand out at the beginning of class," he continued, starting a slow pace across the front of the classroom and watching the reactions of the students. "And don't try to sign for someone else. By the end of this class I will know each and every one of you, and I do not tolerate lying, either. If you fall behind in my lesson because you are distracted, feel free to impose on someone else for the material as I do not enjoy repeating myself. If you have a question, ask it. If you need to use the restroom, do it before class. The seats you are sitting in have officially become your assigned seat for the rest of the quarter."

The students stared at him with thinly veiled horror, and he couldn't really blame them as he was probably one of the most strict teachers they'd probably ever have. He liked his routine, he liked being methodical, and he was short in temperament. It would be much easier for the students to follow him instead of trying to fight him.

"Do I say, and this class will be very easy for you. It's easier to go with me than against me." He made it a point to look right at the student who was late.

And he wasn't even paying attention... That kid was staring right out the window as if he wasn't even in class at all, a million miles away somewhere else, probably in his own personal hell, Bruce suspected. He grit his teeth with irritation, but continued on with his introduction and rules, eyes occasionally flitting back over to the student in the corner to gauge his personality. He could tell that this one would be the challenge for him, but what should he expect from someone who was just in the principles office swearing at his superior? He looked towards him again, thinking on how unappreciative these kids were to have this kind of education at their fingertips when there were so many kids that could only wish for such an opportunity.

Great. Here he was doing a favor for Clark and he already felt irritated and under appreciated within the first thirty minutes of class. Marvelous start. He made a mental note to inquire on the student later.

"Please raise your hand as I call your name and notate your position within the classroom," he said, pulling a pen from inside his suit jacket and with a click, began the checklist.

With each name he called, he memorized each face, attaching with it something akin to a log of stats that would be filed away in his mind for each individual student of first impressions, clothing choice, body posture, even the minor differences each student pronounced their greeting. He could decipher a lot about a person just by looking at them, noticing fine details that most people overlooked or would never even think to notice.

"Richard Grayson?"

The student in question raised a hand and beamed a smile with an energetic "Present!"

"But we all call him Dick," said a female student with a shy smile towards Grayson. Dick waved at her in thanks. Modest.

"Thank you," Bruce said, brushing it off, continuing down the list of names. He found himself wondering which of these names the boy in the corner would answer to. Would he even answer at all? He'd find out soon enough.

There was something off about the boy. No one really seemed to acknowledge him, and if they did they looked or leaned away to carefully avoid him. Judging by what he'd already seen, this was just another loner, a typically misunderstood kid who had a story just like everyone else, just with an extra chip on his shoulder that others didn't. Still, that kid really rubbed him the wrong way and it made him clench his jaw just remembering his flippant attitude when he waltzed in late. He let his eyes float over to him again.

He was carving something into the desk...

Nope. This kid was just a degenerate piece of crap slacker that was going to be a pain in his ass, wasn't he?

"Jason Todd"

"That's me." Ah, so this was the name of his trouble child. Jason leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, locking eyes with Bruce. Closed off body language... intense blue eyes that had seen too much...

The tension was palpable in the room as he took an extra moment to look the boy over to let him know he wasn't playing games and that he would not be taking any kind of crap. The other students seemed paralyzed, fear blatant on their faces. The heavy stillness in the room was satisfying for Bruce, but to his surprise Jason seemed unfazed. There were not many who had held gaze with him so steadily and not buckled from discomfort.

And suddenly he was on to the next name and the moment had passed. The class slowly relaxed while he finished the role call, and he set the papers down and moved to rest on his desk, relaxing his posture a bit and beginning the lesson.

"From what I've gathered, all of you have progressed past classical mechanics of physics as well as atmospheric, biophysical, etcetera, etcetera. The Earth stuff. Next, we will be venturing outside of our little bubble into astrophysics and apply some of the things you've been learning such as relativity, quantum and thermodynamics, and even some theoretical physics into the vast emptiness of space."

The class pulled notebooks and pencils out of their satchels, immediately at attention and ready. As he turned, however, he noted again that Jason seemed uninterested, pushing his pencil around on his desk and watching it roll back to him. Bruce pursed his lips, but pushed on, lifting his hand to the green board and beginning his lesson.

Once it started, the class seemed to fly by, and he actually found himself enjoying it a little. It was kind of nice passing on his knowledge to the next generation, seeing some enthralled by it with passion lighting in their eyes, soaking up the information piece by piece. Before he knew it, it was already time for the class to leave and he was assigning reading and homework. And then he was alone. It felt almost strange.

With a break between now and his AP class, he'd have a little time to organize his thoughts and work. He finally allowed himself to sit in the plush chair at his desk, sighing with a relief of the tension he had been holding in him all morning. After a moment of settling, he pulled a key from his briefcase which was supposed to give him access to this desk's locked drawers. The lock opened smoothly, and the drawers slid out easily. Among the drawers there were extra supplies, some notes from the previous teacher, some lessons plans and work sheets, and finally the filing system he'd been searching for. Every student was listed alphabetically, and he let the tips of his fingers feather over the tabs until he found the file he wanted and plopped it on the desk.

"Richard Grayson," Bruce muttered to himself, flipping through some of the pages. As expected, Dick had high marks on everything with rarely a falter. With the amount of extra credit he also had stacked up, he could probably fail the next two major tests and still have an A. "Of course," he said with a twitch of an amused smile tugging at his lips. There was also a list of his classes and the clubs he was associated with and, not surprisingly, he was enrolled in advanced classes, was captain of the gymnastics team and was also captain of the track and field team. Pleased with this information, he tucked everything neatly back into its folder and placed it back into the filing cabinet.

Next, the rough-around-the-edges Mr. Todd. He wasn't sure what he would find in there other than bad grades and a serious detention record, but he couldn't help feeling curious about him. The file was surprisingly thin. In fact, there really wasn't much on the boy at all. He peeled through the papers carefully, letting his gaze drift over the markings.

Bruce's eyes widened as he came to a crisp piece of paper, fingers tightening in disbelief. Jason had perfect marks on every single assignment, test, and quiz. Not just perfect, but according to this paper, not a single question had been missed on anything.

"What..." he found himself saying aloud. He'd never been more perplexed.

* * *

Lunch couldn't have come soon enough. Dealing with young teens was proving to be somewhat taxing on his patience and he was glad to finally be among fellow adults in the teacher's lounge. A few of them he'd met before, but the ones he didn't gladly introduced themselves and made sure he had everything he needed. Diana and Lois he'd met many times with Clark before, one being his wife and the other one of his closest friends. The others he'd heard things about over dinner, but he was only now putting faces to the names. All of them welcomed him with open arms, thrusting their hands out in greeting and then settling back into their chairs. They were so accommodating it actually made him slightly uncomfortable. He was not a man that became close to others easily, and though he put on a smile, his guard was up. Clark was missing, he noted with displeasure. It would have been nice if Clark could have done all the talking for him.

 _I guess I'll have to fend for myself..._

"Bruce, what a pleasure it is to have you here," one of his coworkers gushed. "I cannot believe Clark knows someone like you. It's such a small world."

This small talk was already excruciating. He should have expected this.

"Well, no offense," another said, fixing his eyes on Bruce, "but aren't you a multimillionaire? Why are you here?"

"Ollie," hissed one of the males. They both had blonde hair and looked like they could be brothers, but he had a feeling they weren't related in the slightest. One was the Physical Education teacher, if he remembered correctly, and the other was teaching Chemistry. "It's none of our business."

"Well, we were all thinking it, Barry, let's be honest." He shrugged it off, stuffing a fork full of food into his mouth. He didn't really want to answer, but he put on his business face to remain professional.

"I always have trusted associates running my company." His voice was deep, holding a weight that was final and nonchalant simultaneously.

Silence fell over the room, everyone staring at Bruce in anticipation and dying for more information they soon realized wouldn't come. The awkwardness didn't bother Bruce, in fact he found it quite amusing as he stabbed his fork into his salad. Barry quickly changed the subject.

"So, have the students acclimated well? Are you getting the hang of things?"

"Yes."

They seemed to get the idea that he wasn't much of a talker.

"Well, just let us know if you have any questions. We're glad to help." Murmurs of agreement and nodding heads with assuring smiles filled the room. They spoke among themselves like they'd been friends for years, and it went on like that for some time until something finally caught his attention.

"Well, just ignore Jason then. It seems to be the best course of action. Don't let him get under your skin... You really need to pick and choose your battles, and that is one battle that no one can win. Do yourself a favor and just keep going."

Jackpot.

"What happened?"

Everyone stopped and looked at Bruce, shocked to hear him speak.

"Well... Clark told you about Jason didn't he?" The slightly raised eyebrow he gave Barry was enough for them to understand. "He really should have told you. What was he thinking?!" A rumble of groans circled around the table.

"To be honest," Diana said, "nobody really knows that much about him." She seemed genuinely concerned, looking thoughtfully at her food. "He keeps to himself, and the students don't dare talk to him. They're scared of him."

"And why is that?" Bruce was unfazed, though even more curious than he'd been before.

"Well," Ollie took over. "There was a rumor going around that he killed someone. The kid's strong enough. You should see him in weight training."

"It's just a rumor!" Barry chimed, pulling Bruce's attention back toward him. "In any case, he is not friendly to the students or staff. One of our former teachers transferred to another school because of him. He likes to do things his way, and we've all come to realize that it's best to leave him alone and just forget about it."

These were some of the brightest, most knowledgeable and highly trained professors in all of the country and they were put off by some kid?

"I know it sounds... Strange." Diana looked at Bruce with a half smile, her eyes conveying far more seriousness than her words. "But it's true. He doesn't like help, he has no respect for any of his peers, and he couldn't care less about this place."

"Then why is he here?" Bruce sat back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest and fixing Diana with an almost irritated gaze.

"We don't know, he just kind of... Showed up."

Things just kept getting stranger and stranger. "You're telling me you have no record of his parents or family? No friends?"

No one answered. There was nothing they could say, he realized. They really, truly knew nothing about this boy.

"Ah, I've got to get going," Diana said suddenly, looking at her watch. Lunch was almost over and he really hadn't gotten any additional information that would help him understand what was going on.

If no one could help him, he had his own ways of making things happen.

* * *

Jason sat outside on a table, his lunch sitting half-eaten at his side as he leaned back on his hands and let the wind tousle and move through his hair. Another boring day, but at least the sky was blue. The sun felt warm on his face, and he closed his eyes and sunk into his senses. He could hear people in soccer practice, a shrill but distant whistle marking the end of a play, loud voices diffused on the wind and muffled by the sound of cars passing and leaves rustling. He could hear the chain link fence rattling, the ground crunching beneath the feet of people walking by, birds chirping loudly and the smell of freshly cut grass stung his nose as he inhaled deeply, with just a hint of tar from the construction a few blocks away. Even the wood beneath his fingertips was soft and sanded, topped with a perfect coat of smooth white paint.

"Jason!"

He opened his eyes slowly and pushed himself up, leaning forward onto his knees and looking at the fellow student approaching. The only student _stupid_ enough to approach, actually. Dick Grayson. The goody-two-shoe perfect child of Elite High that didn't know how to take a hint.

"You looked so peaceful!"

"Yes, it was a nice day until you showed up."

Dick frowned, but like always he kept pushing. "Look, there's a big get together happening for the seniors at the end of the year, and I'd really like you to be a part of it."

"No."

"You don't even know what it is yet!" Dick whined, putting his hands on his hips. "It's not like I'm asking you to go to a dance. It's the fun part. It's the senior prank."

"...I'm listening."

Dick visibly brightened and took a few more steps forward. "Ok, so we want to fill the pool with soap-"

"Stop."

"But-"

"That's child's play. It's not a prank unless someone gets hurt or something is destroyed, and honestly, the janitor is the one who has to clean that shit up, so you're really only messing with one person. Rookie mistake."

"I think that is the most you've ever said to me in the whole time I've known you."

Was it worth getting detention again to punch Dick in the face?

Yes.

"Wait!" Ah, Dick knew him better than he gave him credit for. "Help me out, then. Give me something to work with, and you can be the one to light the torch." Jason raised a brow. "Figuratively speaking."

As tempting as destroying the school sounded, he didn't exactly want to spend time with any of the people in it to do so. Decisions, decisions.

"Beat it, square. I'm not interested."

Dick sighed loudly as the bell rang and gave him one lasting look before turning to head off. Jason watched his retreating back for a moment before sliding off the table and dumping the rest of his lunch into the garbage can and following suit. Clouds drifted in the sky, covering the sun and casting a long shadow over the school as he pulled the door open and stepped into the hall way.

* * *

The next day, Jason poured into the classroom with everyone else, finding his usual seat in the back, setting his backpack on the desk, and then leaning back with his hands behind his head. He let his eyes dance across the board as the new teacher began to write, watching his movements closely. He looked slightly more casual today, his suit jacket hanging neatly on a coat rack leaving the class to view a perfectly pressed white shirt tucked carefully underneath a fitted dark gray vest that matched his slacks. Jason wrinkled his nose a little. No one was perfect, but this guy sure liked to portray himself that way to others, didn't he?

Without the jacket, he saw that there was more to this man than he thought, and he had to admit that he was not expecting the muscles that were pulling the fabric taught around his biceps and chest. The man obviously lifted some weights as well. He thought he would see a beer gut and flabby arms, maybe some ready-to-pop trousers struggling to keep a fat rich guy in them... But not this. This was a whole different ball game.

But so what. The guy was rich, he probably had a personal trainer and a butler that made him perfectly balanced nutritional meals every day.

Yes, Jason knew exactly who Bruce Wayne was, and he was not so naive as to think that a teacher with the same last name wasn't related to the infamous Wayne family. Millions upon millions of dollars invested all over the world, but most notably the charity work that was done by the Wayne Foundation was what the family was most remembered for. Though, if he remembered correctly, that was when his father ran the place, so who knows what it was these days. Jason knew that corruption ran deep when money was involved, so he wouldn't be surprised if the charity was more of a front to direct the eye elsewhere. What the guy was doing here teaching a private high school physics class, he had no idea, but he supposed someone as rich as he could do as little or as much as he pleased.

As the lesson started, he half-listened. It was more like a refresher than an actual class for him. They all passed their homework up, per the teacher's request, and once the papers were in his hands, they began to review the questions, tying the concepts into the next section of their lesson.

"Quantum Physics is small, and I mean really, really small. We're talking about atomic and subatomic levels. We seek to limit variables to systems that are discreet and distinct. For example, we're all familiar with electromagnetic radiation and we will be looking at the particular formulas to 'quantize' these at given frequencies to a specific integer. This is where we will start. To do this, we must have an integer multiple of hv, where v is the frequency and h is, what?"

Very few students raised their hands, though of course Grayson had to be one of them. Jason rolled his eyes.

"Jason."

An electric shock pulsed through his system as his brain registered that the teacher was speaking to him. His eyes shot up to meet the older man's and from his peripheral vision, he saw students turning to look at him. There was a challenge in Wayne's eyes that Jason had never seen from anyone before and it made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and stick. Careful to guard his emotions, he answered just to spite him, never breaking eye contact with him.

"Planck's constant."

"Correct," he said, without missing a beat.

The entire class was staring at Jason, astonished. He hated it. He maintained a bored facade, but inside he was a seething mass of anger that was beginning to fester because of this teacher. He knew the students at this school did not think highly of him, and he wanted to keep it that way. The less they knew, the better, and the easier it would be slip away. Bruce knew... Somehow he knew that Jason was a lot smarter than he pretended to be, and that really rubbed him the wrong way. When he really thought about it, it was probably incredibly easy for this new teacher to reach his stubby fingers into any file of his choosing, but why he had taken an interest in Jason was beyond him.

But now he had taken an interest as well. If this man truly wanted to play a game, he would give him the time of his life and he would make sure it hurt.

For the entirety of the class, Jason's eyes never left Bruce, and to his growing annoyance, the teacher didn't so much as glance his way even once. When class finally ended, he had to force himself to release the tension that was coiling inside his muscles, taking a steady breath and reminding himself that he had other things to do. He snatched up his backpack by one strap, slung it over his shoulder, and whisked out of the class without looking back.

* * *

Lunch was uneventful, and this time he was not pestered by the Grayson kid, much to his delight. Perhaps the kid had finally taken the hint to leave him a lone, that he was not interested in school spirit, and that he was certainly not interested in spending any 'quality time' with the rest of the student body.

The sun was a little too bright today, too warm, and causing a thin sheen of sweat to dew at his brow. He picked a rotten day to wear black. Seeking the cool air inside the building, Jason made his way back, pulling the bottom of his shirt up to wipe the moisture from his face and neck while he swung the door open.

Once inside, his eyes were met with a peculiar sight. Grayson and the new sub teacher were embracing, with the older man's arm around his shoulders. Jason's nose wrinkled in disgust. Great, the new teacher was a pervert and Grayson was sucking up to him like a calf to it's mother's teat. The sight made him sick, really. When they slipped around the corner, he made a gagging noise at the two for his own amusement. Perhaps he could use this information later as blackmail, he pondered, tilting his head slightly as he walked down the long, polished wooden floor of the hallway. He shoved his hands into his pockets, letting his feet take him to his next class at a leisurely pace. Maybe he'd skip.

He sighed and scratched his cheek, turning towards the entrance of the school. Skipping sounded nice. This whole place was a joke, and everyone in it. He couldn't wait to be free. The lectures were boring, the information was rarely something he didn't know, and the only thing he really enjoyed was his weight training class. No one bothered him, especially after they saw how much he could lift, how much he could move, and just how much muscle was hidden beneath his clothing. He was not afraid to be naked in the locker room. While everyone else was shying away, holding their towels tight around their hips, he had no qualms standing around in his birthday suit. He was confident in his own skin.

"Where do you think you're going? Classes are starting."

Jason whipped his head around, brow furrowed with irritation as he fixated the teacher with a glare. This guy, again? Mr. Wayne stared him down from the other end of the hallway and slowly the corner of Jason's mouth twitched up into a smirk. He gave a purposeful shrug, locking eyes with him.

"Classes are starting," Wayne repeated, narrowing his eyes.

"I heard you the first time, grandpa. Thought you didn't like repeating yourself." He saw a flash of surprise and irritation cross the older man's eyes. This guy had no idea what he was getting into if he thought he could boss Jason around. He'd get the message that he wasn't someone to mess with soon enough. They all did.

"Then get moving," the teacher commanded, voice low and gravely. Jason raised a brow, amused.

"Naw, I think I'll pass."

And that's all he said, turning his back on him and walking right out the front door. Mr. Wayne didn't try to stop him, but Jason had a strange feeling in his gut. It was exhilaration He hadn't felt it in so long that the feeling bubbled up and made him laugh aloud as he practically skipped down the street. There was something about this new teacher that made him different from the rest, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it yet. It wasn't his status or power. Yes, Jason knew exactly who Bruce Wayne was, but it made not a bit of difference. If anything, it explained why the man thought he could boss other people around and get them to do as he liked. He was sure the other teachers at the school were already eating out of the palm of his hand, grasping for the chance to stand in his shadow like moth drawn to a flame.

If nothing else, this man would prove to be a fun addition to his school life. He would enjoy tearing the man apart, piece by tiny piece, until he, like everyone else, bowed down to him.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** Thank you for reading. I hope that there is enough intrigue and tension here to make you want to read more! I found notes for this fanfic when I was moving out of my apartment and I couldn't believe I'd forgotten about it. I haven't written in quite some time, so I hope things are cohesive and mesh well together. Please let me know what you think, if I should continue, add more, if I should throw it out, if I should simply disappear into the shadows from whence I came, etc. Haha. Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

Jason wasn't in class the next day, or the one after that. When Bruce had asked his fellow associates, they had only shrugged it off and told him Jason tended to disappear for long periods of time without warning.

And yet, his homework showed up on his desk, completed and perfect, without so much as a hint of how it got there.

Rumors spread very quickly, of course. When he'd asked a student, they had coyly responded that Jason was probably off selling or taking drugs. Another had said he was probably running from the cops. Yet another claimed he'd been behind the recent string of attacks that had been happening in Gotham targeting young women.

Bruce did not know much about the boy, but something in his gut told him he'd never be the perpetrator of these kinds of crimes.

So where was he then?

Bruce continued to try to glean what little information he could from students and staff, though figuring out which pieces were actually true was proving to be more difficult than he anticipated. However, he had many resources at his fingertips, and he had a feeling he knew where to start.

"Dick," he called, rising from the plush armchair that was resting in front of the unlit, dark fireplace. He'd been reading a book, but as he looked at the page, he realized he'd been staring at it blankly for the last half hour without a single word registering into his brain. It was a shame really, not giving such a rare, classic book his full attention. The page edges were foiled with gold and the binding was a perfect crimson, almost scaly to the touch. It was a beautiful, lost art that was being rendered inert with technologies revolutionizing the way people absorbed their data. Reading a book on a handheld computer was nothing short of the perfect convenience on the go, but it would never measure to the sensory craft resting in his palms.

"Yes?" The reply was muffled by the long hall that separated them from each other. It took a moment for Dick to even be able to pop his head through the doorway. "What is it?"

Wayne manor was entirely too large for only the few people that resided within its walls to have a conversation if they weren't in the same room. The rooms, themselves, were gigantic with lofty ceilings and a constant chill that never quite dissipated, even during the summer. Yet, this is the way Bruce preferred it. He'd grown up within its walls and any change made him feel uneasy, as if any shift in the atmosphere would taint or crack the delicate memories of his parents who once roamed the corridors with him like a crumbling wall under too much pressure.

"You talk to him often, don't you? Do you know anything about his life?"

"Huh?" It took a moment for Dick to respond, confusion washing over his features. "You mean… Jason?" He asked, incredulous as it finally hit him. "You're still worried about him?"

Bruce didn't answer, and Dick just sighed.

"Well, I don't know that much, really. We don't actually 'talk,' it's more like I talk and he glares at me." Was that amusement in the older man's eyes? Dick frowned a little, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door frame. "No one knows anything about him," Dick started. He wanted to add 'and I see why that would make you uncomfortable' considering Bruce had some major control issues, but he didn't feel like pressing his luck. "But," he continued, "everyone seems to think he's some criminal with some serious issues, and they're probably right."

"Do _you_ think that's true?"

Dick hesitated.

"…Not really." He sounded unsure of himself, and the raised eyebrow he received from his companion was an unspoken question. "I mean, I don't know. If you haven't noticed, the guy is about as personable as a brick wall." Although, Dick mused, he could have just as well been describing Bruce, but at least the older man could pretend when he wanted to. "I don't know," he said again, shrugging. "There are people who claim to have seen him hanging out at graveyards and beating up people in alley ways and stuff, real weird, creepy things. But who knows if they're actually telling the truth. When he disappears, we always think it's the last time we'll ever see him. I'm always surprised when he shows up again for class. The guy acts like he hates school, so why do you think he even bothers to come back at all, you know? He's just a really strange kid. I feel kinda bad for him because I hear his parents died or something when he was young."

Dick stopped talking, not really knowing what else to say, and Bruce had a strange look on his face that he hadn't seen very often but he had no idea what it meant. Both he and Bruce had also lost their parents when they were young, but Dick had been lucky enough to have this older man step up and take care of him, plucking him from an orphanage that was receiving donations from the Wayne Foundation.

"I think it's best you leave him alone…" He trailed off, a little defensive. He was starting to understand why Bruce had taken an interest in the kid. "I know what you're thinking, Bruce, but this isn't the same. He's not the kind of person who would accept help from anyone. He's always carved his own way through anything, even school rules."

Dick watched Bruce for a while longer, but it was becoming clear that he was not going to get anything else out of his guardian. He wanted to shake Bruce, honestly, maybe even slap him across the face to jolt him out of whatever weird thought process he was falling into.

* * *

On Thursday, Jason finally showed up.

The first indication was the motorcycle in the parking lot. Bruce would never forget the bike, watching Jason turn his back on him after requesting he stay in school and revving it in defiance as he sped from the parking lot. Its red and black exterior was rather slick and impressive, though part of him wondered if he had stolen it. He noted the sputtering of the bike while he drove away, inferring that perhaps the boy had bought it for a bargain because it was older and had broken down before. This was very intriguing indeed. Though Jason portrayed himself as aloof and uncaring, Bruce could see that he did, in fact, take pride in his work, so the sputtering bike was something of a mystery to Bruce…

Strangely, Jason was half an hour early, his feet propped up on his desk and arms crossed over his chest. Their eyes locked and neither of them moved for a moment. The tension between them was palpable and he didn't know why he was feeding into the challenge like two alphas fighting over territory.

However, he was incredibly relieved that the boy was here and not as the rumors suggested as dead in some ditch or in a dank room with a needle in his arm…

"Welcome back," he said smoothly, breaking the ice between them as he set his briefcase on the desk. He opened it, pulling his lecture from its folder and glancing at it before turning his attention to the green board behind him and picking up the chalk he so desperately hated. He could feel the stare behind him like a burn that practically seared the flesh off his back. The sound of the squeaking chalk was all that filled the room for a few minutes, and it almost made him miss the small sigh that drifted from the corner of the room.

"I imagine this all must be terribly boring for you," Bruce said, turning to wipe his hands on a towel, the sarcasm unhidden in his tone.

Jason leaned forward, swinging his feet to the ground and replacing them with his elbows, gently resting his chin on his linked fingers. He fixed his teacher with a smirk, but said nothing.

"Then you won't mind that I've prepared something special for you." More sarcasm, but the piqued eyebrow he received gave him an unnecessary satisfaction.

"For me? You shouldn't have," Jason purred, but Bruce could see the dare written across the younger man's face. It made him want to wipe the smile clean off his lips. He pulled some papers from his files and walked towards Jason with an ease and grace that seemed to unsettle the boy, noting he sat up straighter as Bruce peered down at him. He slid the papers to Jason, but Jason didn't look at them.

"Just for you." Jason narrowed his eyes. It seemed like he'd finally gotten under the boy's skin, just as the student had done to him. It was rewarding and petty all at the same time. "This counts for half of your grade."

" _Excuse me?_ " The astonishment crystallized in his eyes before it turned right back to fury.

"I don't like repeating myself."

Jason was livid. Bruce would not be surprised if the boy lashed out at him, frankly. But just as he thought he'd gotten the upper hand, Jason slowly relaxed and his lips melted into that agitating smirk that Bruce hated so much.

"Well then, I guess I'm going to need a _teacher_. You know a guy?"

The insult was hardly clever, but for some reason it dug into him deeper than any sour word thrown at him before. However, if he knew anything about subduing the wild, it was to beat them at their own game.

"3:30. Don't be late."

Jason's little game had backfired. He'd just roped himself into an extra class.

"Tsk," he clicked his tongue, lifting one of his hands towards his face to inspect his nails, as if they were far more interesting than the man standing in front of him. "And what makes you think you can force me to show up?"

"I can't," Bruce said matter-of-factly. Jason eyed him suspiciously. That was obviously not the answer he was expecting. It appeared he was just at the precipice: the limn between defiant and sheer rage.

"You're punishing me for knowing more than these idiots? Unbelievable." The frustrated growl he received was his victory song. He'd won. Jason begrudgingly slid the papers closer to himself to take a gander.

"You can either fight me and lose, or do as I ask and win."

"Are you actually _asking_?" The question bothered him. It wasn't the snarky tone or the way Jason stared into his narrowed eyes. He didn't quite comprehend why, really, but it gave him pause.

"No."

And just like that, the challenge was back in Jason's fiery eyes and Bruce had no idea what to make of it.

The end of the day couldn't come quick enough. But the end wasn't really quite the end, he mused, as he stared at the black ink on the papers in his hand. It dictated the time of his "new class" simply as 3:30.

Or rather, 15:30. Pretentious ass hole.

Who the fuck did this guy think he was? He must really get off on power trips to pull a stunt like this. In his experience, rich folk were all the same and enjoyed toying with the commoners of the world, and this guy probably wasn't any different.

The halls of the school were mostly empty now, with a few loitering while waiting for their rides or going to club activities or something equally unimportant. The stares cast in his direction did not go unnoticed, though he didn't acknowledge them openly either. He was used to it by now, and he enjoyed the vast chasm his reputation dug between him and the rest of the kids at this school.

The laminate floor beneath his feet was so polished and smooth beneath his feet that it was almost blinding when the fluorescent lighting caught it just right. It was just another illusion of class and perfection, just like the gaudy private school itself with its antiquated brick structure and looming ivory towers. The exterior was beautiful, but the interior was rotting like the people inside of it. The immaculately painted walls felt more like the insides of an insane asylum than a place for the power of knowledge and creativity. Perhaps he'd just hoped for more than this…

His feet had taken him directly to the green door that was all that stood between him and a waste of his time. He could leave right now if he wanted. He could turn and walk out the front doors and never come back… But he wouldn't let what was beyond this door stop him from what he'd worked so hard for.

He reached forward and grasped the brass handle, turning it and pushing the door open. Bruce Wayne was there of course, but he hung back in the doorway defiantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

The moment his eyes met Jason's, a frigid chill ran up his spine. He wasn't nervous or scared… but thrilled? Something kept his feet from moving, even as Bruce's eyes trailed down his body, all the way down to his shoes, then back up. He hated that look, like every inch of him was an open book that gave away every secret he wanted to keep to himself. Even as Bruce approached him, he stood his ground.

"I'm glad you came."

Jason's lip twitched, begging to snarl, but he kept his chin up and his eyes focused on Bruce, even as the man looked down at him.

"Great to be here," he returned sarcastically.

"Please," Bruce said, reaching beyond Jason's side to grasp the door knob, his chest brushing against one of Jason's arms as he stepped to the side to allow him passage through. "Come in."

He prickled, forcing his shoulders down and sliding past him towards the empty rows of seats. He heard the click of the door behind him as he threw his backpack onto a chair and sat on top of a desk, letting his legs dangle and his fingers tightly gripped the edge.

Bruce mirrored his movements, he noticed, but instead of sitting on top of the teacher's desk, he merely leaned against it directly in front of Jason.

"What are you doing with your life?"

"If you've come here to lecture me on life after school, it would save us both a lot of problems if you just let me leave."

"I'm asking because I'm curious."

Jason tilted his head just slightly in confusion. Was this guy for real?

"Why does it matter," he quipped, gripping the desk even tighter.

"Because you're an incredible individual."

He bristled. He didn't like where this conversation was going, not that he knew where it was actually headed. This was uncharted territory and he had absolutely no idea why anyone would say that to him. Much less why it made him feel… strange. He'd never been praised before like that.

"You show me yours, and I'll show you mine," Jason purred, attempting to make the older man uncomfortable.

"Something tells me you already know more about me than you let on," Bruce retorted.

Well, he wasn't wrong. Jason had done his research.

"Anyone can do a Google search, Bruce. Can I call you Bruce?" The lack of amusement in his stare filled him with life.

"So you've been doing research on me." It was more of an observation than a question, and it suddenly made Jason feel irritated. He'd just revealed he'd be thinking about him, enough to actually search on him and waste his free time looking into him. He grit his teeth.

"Wouldn't want my fellow students being taught by some criminal. I thought I'd take one for the team to make sure our teacher wasn't a creep." The thinly veiled lie sounded more pathetic than anything and he cursed himself for being caught off guard.

"I thought you didn't care about anyone here?"

This was really starting to get on his nerves. But part of him just wanted to give in and get this over with.

"I have a reputation to uphold. I'd appreciate it if you cut the shit and just get to the lesson," Jason said, his steely gaze locking onto Bruce's again. The teacher seemed to contemplate his words, neither of them breaking eye contact for a long moment.

"You never answered my question."

Jason growled in frustration.

"I don't know, ok? I don't really care. I can do whatever I need to get by. Stay out of my business."

"I'd like you to join a club. You can't graduate without joining one."

Jason made to grab for his bag. Enough of this shit. This was absurd.

"Find someone else to harass."

"Jason…"

Why? Why did the sound of his name in that voice stop him in his tracks? He turned just enough to send him a glare.

"Your bike," he started. Jason's glare turned slightly more to curiosity and confusion. "I know how to fix it."

"I don't need your charity, old man," Jason scoffed.

"The air to fuel ratio is off. If you're not careful, it will die on you in the middle of a ride."

Jason's lip twitched. "You spying on me or something?"

"Hard not to hear it when you're the only one in the school with a motorcycle." He had a point…

"You want to fix my bike?" Jason asked in disbelief, but it was more of an angry and impatient tone, as if to say 'what's the catch?'

"No. I want to show you how."

Jason didn't quite know what to make of it. Should he be suspicious? Did he know just how little money Jason had and that's why he was trying to pity him with some Gracious Deed ™? Somehow, though, against his mind's wariness, Jason could feel the sincerity in his voice. His body language was relaxed, not standoffish like normal. He was telling the truth. He swallowed against the dryness of his throat, resisting the urge to lick his chapping lips while he thought hard on the subject. He never accepted help from strangers, but he had to admit that he was very interested. He smirked, a little idea striking him.

"Ok, I'll bite," he said, letting his gaze trail down Bruce's form in thought. "Count it as my club activity, and I'll do it." He lifted his eyes again to gauge the teacher's response.

Was he imagining the small smile? He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well?"

"Deal."

* * *

Friday came and it seemed like Thursday had just been a figment of his imagination. Bruce hadn't so much as looked at him all day and it made him want to do anything just to get under his skin. At one point, he'd childishly contemplated spit balls until he realized how ridiculous he was acting and settled for glaring out the window the rest of the day. He was fidgeting with his pencil, twirling it between his fingers in deft disinterest.

He was actually _excited_.

It had been so long, he hardly remembered what it felt like. He was dying to get his hands on some tools and fix his bike. He wanted to know its inner workings, its clicks and ticks, everything. Being self-sufficient had always been part of his way of life, and when he'd learned the clubs here were nothing more than sports and useless ways to fill time, he'd be sorely disappointed. It felt like nothing at school was actually prepping him for the real world. He'd already seen the real world, lived it and knew it. What the hell was physics going to do for him? What the hell was history going to do for him? But automotive? Now that was something he could use for the rest of his life. A smile crept onto his lips. Maybe this Wayne guy wasn't so bad after all.

He still pissed really him off, though.

He knew he was just giving Bruce the satisfaction of his Gracious Deed™. Rich dudes really enjoyed playing god or charity like they actually gave a damn. But if it _truly_ worked in _his_ favor, he'd get more from the deal than this rich freak, right?

The last bell of the day rang and sprung him from his seat, practically racing down the steps to get out of the god forsaken history class. He appreciated books, very much so actually, but history class made him want to burn textbooks more than cared to admit.

He caught himself, slowing down to leisurely pace and slapping his own face just to remind himself to play cool. He'd be damned if he'd let Wayne see him like this. He may have won the battle, but Jason would win the war.

He fished a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket as he neared his locker, reading the address while he unlocked the metal door and removed his leather jacket. The garage was close by. He wondered if Wayne owned it or called in a favor? He shoved the paper back in his pocket, sliding his arms into the holes of his jacket and then promptly sticking his helmet under his arm. He shut the locker and practically ran towards the parking lot.

He slung his leg around to straddle the bike. He sat there for a moment as he pulled his helmet on, tugging at the strap and pulling gloves from his jacket pocket. He entwined his fingers, pushing the material between his digits to get a nice, firm grip, then securing the Velcro at his wrists. The engine roared to life. He finally felt relaxed. The vibrations of the bike reminded him that freedom wasn't so far away, anymore. If he stuck with this, he wouldn't be indebted to anyone in the future. A warm breeze curled around the back of his neck and over his exposed knuckles, making his eyes flutter shut. He took a deep inhale, and released it slowly as more of his tension melted away.

When the engine was suitably warm, he pulled on the throttle gently and rolled towards the exit, turning right onto the rough road towards his destination.

When he got there, he already saw the out-of-place expensive car that was parked outside the otherwise worn-out looking shop. The garage was open, though Bruce was not inside that he could see. He pulled around and turned off the bike, kicking the stand down and pulling the helmet from his head. He slid gracefully off the machine, boots hitting the ground with a loud crunch, and he crept warily up to the building. He saw the cracked open door that led inside the shop, but he allowed his eyes to stray along the inside of the garage first. It was actually pretty big. He saw a car hoisted up into the air with no wheels on it. It was a real classic car, maybe from the fifties, with wing backs and chipping paint. It was otherwise perfect, no dents or apparent body damage. And to the left there was another bike. It didn't really look anything like his, but he supposed the concept was more or less the same.

The smell of stale oil was kind of refreshing. It was much better than smelling the castile fragrances that lingered around the school, constantly making him feel like he was one minute away from a headache. He set his helmet on the tool bench, shedding his jacket next, then finally laying his gloves on top of the heap. He stepped carefully up the step and past the cracked door, pushing it open and looking for wigns of life.

He heard rummaging and followed it.

He found Bruce, his back to him, in weathered jeans and a tee shirt, peeling through parts in a box. Jason went very still as his eyes moved down the toned back, perfectly outlined by the black cotton that clung to it like a second skin. And his biceps… Jason was a weight lifter, but those biceps put him to shame. When Bruce bent over, Jason's head tilted slowly, eyes fixated right on his ass. He hadn't realized his lips had parted in shock until he cleared his throat to pull himself, and Bruce, back to awareness.

Bruce turned, his already dirtied hands gripping some tubing. Bruce frowned and looked at Jason's clothes. He was still wearing his school uniform, though untucked and wrinkled as it may have been.

"Did you bring different clothes…?"

He felt stupid. Of course he should have brought different clothes. His lack of answer was enough for the teacher to get the picture.

"First rule of auto mechanics," he started, unzipping a duffle bag on the counter and pulling clothes from its depths. "Don't wear clothes you like, or need elsewhere." He handed Jason the bundle of clothes, pushed past him to give him privacy and went back into the garage.

Jason shed his backpack to the floor and began to change. He pulled the long sleeved, cotton-spandex shirt over his head, and he inhaled sharply. It smelled really good. Not quite fresh laundry, but like Bruce had worn it before, and maybe a hint of motor oil.

He slithered back out to the garage. "Not too bad, eh, Brucey?" He was referring to himself. "They're kinda _big._ " His teacher watched him carefully. "I gotta say," he smirked, "I like getting into your pants."

The look on Bruce's face was priceless. It truly said, without words, that he could not follow Jason down this dirty, dark road. He wouldn't be Jason if he didn't make the man uncomfortable, now was he? The guy may have roped him into a "club activity," but he would give him hell the entire time.

The older man's face told him he didn't think it was funny, but in that moment, he saw him think about it, just a tiny moment, and suddenly his face faltered and Jason caught the self-doubt, the crack in his mask as he turned away.

Oh?

What was that?

"Get your bike…" his tone was stern, unwavering and more of an order than a request. Jason obliged, a wide, sadistic grin spreading across his lips as he grabbed the handles of his bike, kicked up the stand, and pushed his bike up the shallow driveway.

Once they got going, Jason was fascinated. He watched, absorbing every little thing that he could. He knew basic motorcycle terminology, so when Bruce pointed out this and that, it was easy to remember and associate its purpose. He instructed him to start the bike, and he did, then left it idling and crawled back down onto his knees to follow Bruce's line of sight. They had already stripped the engine cover to reveal a section under the tank with a hose. Bruce pulled on the hose a little and they both heard a very faint hiss of air escaping.

"Sounds like there's a leak…" Bruce mused, more to himself, but it didn't sound like he was convinced that that was the problem. "Turn it off?"

Jason did as he was told, letting the bike die and stopping next to the older man again. This was… a little more fun that he'd thought it would be. A lot more, actually. He found his eyes drifting from Bruce's hands to his face, watching him mumble to himself as he looked at the hoses he'd brought out from the shop earlier. With the lack of proper ventilation in the garage, the heat had likely coiled throughout the day to bring them to their current unpleasant warmth that was just enough to cause a thin sheen of sweat to dew at their foreheads. He felt like he was actually seeing the real Bruce. It kind of annoyed him that he wasn't the arrogant rich boy he'd thought him to be. He wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. He knew a real man's hard labor. The older man lifted the back of his hand to his face and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Jason watched as a small clump of hair fell from its normally perfect placement to hang down, just above his eyebrow. He was staring. Jason grit his teeth, forcing his eyes from an incredibly unfair jaw line back down to the hoses that Bruce was changing.

"I have a feeling this may be an electrical issue," Bruce continued to muse, unaware.

"Spark plugs?" Jason offered.

"Most likely. There's a box full of them next to the bench," and Jason was already grabbing it and sliding it over. Who knew if they even had the right spark plugs?

"Don't pull the wire, because you might damage the connection," Bruce said, showing him carefully. "Pull carefully at the base where the boot is…" he trailed off and wiggled it free, setting the wire aside. He lifted a wrench. "If you have a spark plug wrench, like this, it's better than say a flat wrench." He covered the protrusion of the spark plug and gave it a few turns until it was loose enough to turn the rest by hand. He pulled the plug from the bike and held it next to the ones in their hands for comparison until they found one that matched.

Jason fished out a few others just in case and set them aside, then shoved the box out of the way.

"Here," came the deep voice that was right next to his ear. He took the spark plug and reached forward.

He screwed it in until the washer was touching the cylinder, then took the wrench from Bruce.

"Just a half a turn. The plug is steel, but the body is a lighter alloy, which is not as strong."

"Right," Jason hummed. "So it could damage the alloy and mess up the cylinder."

He learned fast, and he could see it on Bruce's face. He turned the wrench, checked the washer with his bare fingers, then reached for the boot attached to the wire. He secured it in place and set the wrench down.

"Shall we?" Jason asked, a grin on his face.

"Go ahead." They both stood and Bruce took a step back while Jason threw a leg over and started the engine. They both listened for a while, neither of them hearing the sputtering that was previously apparent before. He revved the engine some, testing it's bearings and looked at Bruce.

It sounded good. Really good.

"I'm going to test it out!" He had to speak a little louder over the rumbling. Bruce gave a small nod and picked up a towel to wipe his hands. Jason wiggled his way down the driveway carefully before revving and taking off.

It felt so good being on the bike. His stomach churned with excitement as he rolled along and turned about the block. Without his helmet, the wind caressed his face and blew his hair every which way. It was like flying.

He carefully guided himself back to the garage, pulling up and shutting the engine off once he reached Bruce. He was drinking from a bottle of water and tossed one to Jason once he was off the bike. He gladly accepted it and opened it quickly to take a long drink. He sighed heavily after, leaning against the tool bench and staring at Bruce.

"So you're not just a pathetic ass hole who likes to pick on kids." It was actually a compliment, but it was delivered in the only way he knew how to give them.

"Thank you." He flinched. Was he so transparent that the old man could read him like a book?

He could let him have all the fun, now could he? He wouldn't go down without a fight. He wouldn't give the older man the pure satisfaction of his accomplishment. He pushed himself off the tool bench, leaving his water bottle behind and advancing towards his teacher like a cat on the prowl. Bruce shifted his weight.

"You're pretty good with your hands…" Jason smirked. "What else can you do with them?" He really enjoyed making Wayne uncomfortable. He imagined it was rather hard to do, as even though he was suggesting very blatantly inappropriate things, he hardly got anything from the man. It was infuriating really, but he wasn't deterred in the slightest. If anything, it only made him want to push harder.

He stopped in front of him, the distance between them far too narrow to be proper. He brushed Bruce's arm with his fingers as he reached up to take the towel that was draped over his shoulder, not moving an inch as he wiped his fingers and stared up at the man in front of him.

Bruce stared down the bridge of his nose at him, his blue-grey eyes locked on his own, but the man didn't move at all. He'd never back down from a challenge, would he?

He smirked, carefully reaching up to touch his jaw and smeared some oil on cheek with his thumb.

"You've got some oil there…" Jason purred. He watched as he clenched his jaw, the only indication that Jason was getting to him. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" The man's self control was really something else. Though perhaps he was just at the end of his limit…

He snickered and put the towel back on his shoulder, noting every muscle in his body was tense and hard as he just watched Jason closely.

"See you Monday." He grinned, leaning away, breaking the tension between them. He shrugged his jacket on, pulled his helmet over his head and started the bike. He looked over his shoulder at Bruce, enjoying the sight.

How far could he push until Bruce Wayne broke?

* * *

Note: Thanks for reading! I know it's been ages. I love this story, but I'm not sure I have the strength to finish it. They're so complex and difficult to write in AUs. -sob- I will do my best. Please review.


End file.
